


A horrible idea.

by FantaSea



Category: Fast & Furious 6 (2013), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Don't Read This, Drabble, Gen, It's only in your best interest to leave now, OC -kinda, This is pointless, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantaSea/pseuds/FantaSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George shouldn't do this. Damn his moral compass and his proclivity to do good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A horrible idea.

**Author's Note:**

> I got hit with the inspiration cow whilst with the family watching Fast 6. Well actually, I laughed out loud at a time when everyone else was quiet, called him George, and gave him a whole background throughout the whole film. It was distracting and hilarious at the same time.
> 
> This is a pointless drabble that you probably shouldn't even bother with. I should have started with this first.

George was a good guy, okay? He paid his taxes, he attended lunches with his mother whenever she called twice in a row, he handed in reports at least four hours before they were due in and he no longer used the company server to pay his bills. He'd admit that though he wanted to be out on the streets saving people, he was an office lackey in fucking Interpol- he had a _security clearance_. That was awesome in its own right.

And George understood, he did, that there were times when you had to turn a blind eye to a particularly bad criminal and do dubious stuff to get them to talk. He'd stood in three interrogations like that, and he'd seen enough movies. But beating a man to what looked like paralysis was kinda where he drew his line.

George glanced at the incredibly -intimidatingly- beautiful woman next to him twice before he drew up his courage to speak. Thank God he had somewhat of a moral code, because otherwise he wouldn't have said anything and punished himself later with a call to his mother who liked to berate him for his hair every second sentence. And he'd do it; he'd think about it all day and be riddled with guilt by the time he settled in front of the telly for the night that he'll have dialed without even noticing. Stupid conscience.

"Is that legal?" George's words were punctuated with the grunts of absolute pain their detainee kept on letting out from the steroid addled bunch of grapes thing that was Hobbs. He was a gargantuan of a man that intimidated even more than his gorgeous companion. And that was saying something, because ever since the _Happenstance_ of '03 George couldn't actually talk to anyone with a vagina without a professional setting.

Yeah, it was a thing. He was like a step behind Raj Koothrappali from that wretched American show that his roommate Gavin seemed to adore. It was probably what turned him half-way gay.

The woman of his dreams slid him a smirk, and spared him a glance before looking back at the torture scene with something akin to admiration. George didn't know whether to be turned on or scared. His body decided on both.

"No," she paused, interrupted with more grunts and groans and then slid him a smirk. "You wanna go tell him that?" She asked finally, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

George's fingers twitched once. No, no he did not. But to be honest he'd rather face a broken nose than his mother's snide comments. After another moment of gathering his courage once again he felt himself turn and lurch forward. George didn't stop once to think about what he was doing, but only slid a clammy hand across his parted hair.

He swung open the door, shoulders back. George didn't see the woman's calculating and slightly surprised look, didn't _want_ to see it, actually. It'd just waylay him, and then the cookie would crumble in the way where he slinks back to his computer and tries to forget the pained groans with insults to Gavin who probably hadn't let the cat out, and most probably hadn't paid his half of the bills yet.

No. George Wells was going to do this.

He slid the door second door open after punching in the five digit code and was immediately hit with a pungent smell. It was of blood, and debris and George did not like it at all. His mouth dropped. He couldn't help it. The three by four metre room hadn't looked this bad with a two-way mirror between them. He blinked.

Hobbs turned around, and George balked, forgot what he was going to say. _God._ His bicep was bigger than George's head. Hobbs seemed to snarl. "I'm not done yet."

Hobbs slammed the door closed, on to George's face actually, and he just had to jinx it and talk about broken noses, didn't he? A clammy hand flew up to his nose to stop the dripping blood and he bent at the waist. God, this was horrible. He leaned onto the wall, ignoring his own painful groan and glanced at the closed wooden door once again. What a horrible, horrible idea.

"Uh, uh, uh Georgie-boy." George glanced up at the voice of his supervisor and couldn't help the next painful groan that slipped out that couldn't all be blamed on his nose. So, he wouldn't be living this down. Ever.

This was a horrible idea. And Lord of all lords, woman-of-his-dreams would have seen the whole thing. God, he was never doing this again. Let other people have their noses broken. His moral compass sucked- he literally had never saw that door coming. He glared at it whilst he tried to discern whether or not his nose was broken.

"It'll be better if you just stayed down, Georgie. Otherwise he might break your arm next." George blinked incredulously. He wasn't going to be going in there again, no worries about that. George's supervisor looked like he didn't know whether to look resigned or embarrassed. The man settled for a mixture of one part resigned, two parts embarrassed and three parts sardonic. "It's not broken. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up."

George slinked to the bathroom, and avoids looking at the mirror for fear of talking himself into and even worse fate because of how pathetic he looks. It doesn't work.

\--------------------------------------

"George? Why are you ringing me? You never ring me unless Gavin hasn't paid his half of the rent and you need money. But I talked to Gavin when he walked Mr. Nibbles to the post shop today to pay his half, so it's not that. Oh, _my dear_. Have you finally gotten rid of that God awful mop on top of your head you call hair? The only thing your father gives you, and it's his _bloody_ hair- and you like to sweep it to the side _just like him_ \- are you listening? Is that why you rang?"

"Mum," George sighs and shifts the ice pack over his nose. He knew it would come to this. His moral compass is strong, and he's just a good guy, okay?

**Author's Note:**

> You got this far? I am impressed. Cheestickles for you.


End file.
